


Eye For An Eye

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Humor, M/M, None - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 09:02:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/796383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair gets a little too testy.  Jim decides that enough is enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eye For An Eye

## Eye For An Eye

by Lace

Well they keep telling me that I own them, but Pet Fly say otherwise. Either way I'm not making any money. Guess I'll just have to live on love!

Oh you poor people, here's another one! Thanks again to all of you who've been encouraging me this past week - I fear you've created a monster! And again thanks to Sharilyn - don't know what I would have done if you hadn't found that error. (Whimpers: Why is there always an error?!) Hope you enjoy this silliness.

"Never Never irritate a Sentinel. Not a real one. Not one as big as me." - James Ellison, before caffeine, 17th July, 1998.

* * *

He'd eaten breakfast on the run. He'd only had four and a half minutes in the shower. And the water had gone cold, _dammit;_ stone damned cold. Now the whole thing was straining an already over-stimulated set of nerves. 

Three hours was enough. 

More than enough. 

_"Enough,_ Sandburg!" 

Jim Ellison's voice was firm and it brooked no argument. 

Blair knew that tone. He knew it all too well, really. Situations like these were always a gamble. 

And they were so damned exhausting. Talking Jim into taking the test. Cajoling Jim into cooperating with the test. Persuading Jim to continue with the test. Never knowing if or when his recalcitrant subject would suddenly tire of the whole damn thing. Only knowing for a certainty that it _would_ happen _before_ they were finished, _before_ Blair was through. 

It was enough to make any self respecting anthropologist have a nervous breakdown. 

And he came close to it. 

Often. 

He sometimes wondered whether Jim realized the importance of controlled experimentation at all. Whether he even _understood_ all the ramifications that.. 

Blair sighed. A heavily accented, long suffering sigh. 

"Forget it, Sandburg." 

"Aw, Jim. Man, I only need a few more minutes. Just a few more minutes and it will all be over. I promise you Jim." His voice was plaintive. Plaintive usually worked, but just for good measure, just to be absolutely sure, he followed it up with his patented wide-eyed stare. 

"No." 

_Okay, got it. Not plaintive. Not the stare. Not today._

_So how about.._

"I said _'no',_ Sandburg." said Jim, before Blair could come up with anything more outrageous. 

"But you haven't even _tasted_ the.." 

Jim fixed him with an icy blue glare. "Now which one of those two letters did you have trouble understanding, Darwin?" He surged up from the chair. "The 'n'? Or the.." 

"Oh.." 

Blair backed off a couple of steps. 

He raised his hands in supplication. "I .. just a few more minutes, Jim. Honest. Then it will..." 

"..all be over?" Jim tore off the unwieldy headset, dismembering one of its antennae in the process, and advanced menacingly on his partner. 

The antenna landed forlornly on the floor. 

Blair gaped in horror at the wanton destruction. 

"You've only needed 'a few more minutes' for the last two hours, Sandburg.." Without even looking Jim tossed the offending headset over one shoulder and Blair was forced to make a frantic dash and an even more frantic leap to save his equipment from an unthinkable fate. "I've tasted every morsel of food that we have in the loft, most of your - he shuddered at the memory - leftovers, half of the stuff you had delivered from the grocer's, and _just_ in case you hadn't noticed the time - I have to be down at the station in twenty three minutes." He snaked out a hand as Blair sidled past him, but Blair was just a little too nimble and ducked out of his way before his partner could apprehend him. Jim clenched his jaw in disgust. 

And then he advanced another step. 

It was a classical Ellison advance, one designed to put the fear of death or disembowelment into even the bravest of opponents. And when combined with the Ellison growl... 

Blair stood his ground. 

But it didn't faze Ellison. 

Not in the least. 

"My mouth feels like the inside of a _blender._ I'll probably _never_ feel like eating again. So. You either give me that thing so I can put it safely away or I promise you that in thirty seconds it _will_ be all over - and in more ways than..." 

"No." 

"I said give it to me, Sandburg. Or I swear ..." He cast a meaningful glance towards the hapless antenna now curled up in agony on the floor. 

"Protect the Guide, Jim," the anthropologist babbled, dancing just out of reach. "Just remember your priorities." But when he saw the new look on Jim's face - and it _was_ a 'new' look - one that defied description - Blair caved in all at once and surrendered. With a final mewl of protest he stepped reluctantly forward and handed the headset to his simmering friend. 

"Good." Jim took advantage of his close proximity and grabbed him by the arm. "Now, just where _is_ that page in the Sentinel manual?" And Jim was now grinning ferally. "You know the one, Sandburg; the chapter where it tells you how to handle an obsessive compulsive Guide.." 

"Uh.." Blair squirmed in his grasp. "Okay, Jim. _Okay!_ Now just let me ... _Ouch!_ Not fair, man. Not the hair. Not the...." 

"You coming or not?" 

Jim pushed him away, not ungently, released the aforementioned hair with a rough caress, and headed in the direction of the coat rack and the door. "I've got no more time left, Chief. We've got a stakeout this afternoon and another this evening." He canted his head and, adopting a leer, raised one wickedly suggestive eyebrow "Aw, c'mon, Chief. The one in the evening's in a romantic little alley beautifully situated down by the docks..." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Full moon, water lapping gently at the jetty.. we can be _alone..."_

Blair glared irritably at his partner, rubbing at his scalp. 

"Not." he announced decisively. 

"Not coming? Or not feeling romantic?" Jim smiled at his eloquent joke. 

_Ellison humor. Oh, funny._

_Ha, ha._

"Not. Neither." Blair made a show of gathering his rather precariously stacked pile of textbooks from the kitchen table. "In case _you've_ forgotten, I'm wanted down at the U." _Where I'll be appreciated,_ he thought, testily. _Where no one will maul me. Well, unless it's the right kind of maul, one that might be considered a prelude to something a little more...Shit!_ He frantically captured the new and bizarre little tendril of thought - and its accompanying image - and frog-marched them both to the back of his mind. 

Where he was sure they belonged. 

Whereupon both rebelled and defied his explicit directive to stay there. 

"Later, man," he said, a little too brightly and grabbed for his jacket and flew through the door. Then he froze for a beat. "Oh, Jim? Is pasta okay?" 

Jim tousled his hair. "Sure, Chief. That sounds good." 

"Cool - oh, and don't forget, Jim." Blair looked back over his shoulder. "You have to exercise those senses. Why don't you treat today as an exercise? Don't be afraid to experiment just because I'm not gonna be there. Use your initiative. Be creative. Think about it man, it might even be fun." 

_Oops. 'Afraid.' 'Experiment'. Bad choice of words there, Sandburg._

Jim scoffed at the very notion. 

James Ellison, Sentinel. 

Ex army ranger. 

Scared? 

He was never afraid. 

Never. 

* * *

So he followed Blair's instructions to the letter. 

He tried to exercise his senses. 

He tried to experiment surreptitiously on Rafe and then on Brown, but it wasn't any fun because they had no idea what he was doing. Actually, he had no real idea of what he was doing either - but that was beside the point. 

He tried to experiment on Cassie, but that was a bit of a failure, because she interpreted his concentrated stare as some kind of invitation. It took some time to extricate himself from that little situation with all of his dignity still intact. 

It was a good save, though. Well thought out. Convincing. 

He'd told her he had a migraine coming on. And she had believed him. 

Really. 

After that little triumph he found himself in need of a really big challenge. 

So he decided to experiment on Simon. 

But that didn't exactly proceed according to plan. 

For starters his Captain did not take too kindly to his listening in to each and every phone call - even though he'd been able to tell him in exact and particular detail precisely what was happening in the background in every single one. 

He really couldn't understand why Simon wasn't impressed. He'd been quite proud of that. 

And although _he'd_ thought it impressive when he'd read the report in Simon's hand before he'd even left his office to approach him, Simon hadn't appreciated that demonstration either. 

He hadn't taken it to heart, though. Simon was never very understanding when it came to these things. 

But he'd finally had to quit when the coffee thing happened. 

Hell, it wasn't his fault that he'd felt duty bound to poke his head through the door and tell Simon that his phone was still ringing, nor was it his fault that his Captain had been juggling three items at once at the moment he entered the room. And it _certainly_ wasn't his fault - no matter what Joel might have said - that he'd acted on instinct and leapt towards Simon in order to help him. Hell, if you asked _him,_ he'd been damned heroic. 

But Simon hadn't asked; he'd been too busy swearing. 

And neither had Joel. 

And then it was time for him to head out on stakeout anyway. 

* * *

The stakeout was boring, although it was nice being able to use his own cell phone every once in a while. It felt good to be boning up on his communications skills. He'd missed that, hadn't been able to do it for a long time. 

Of course he didn't miss Blair. 

No way did he miss Blair. Nope, not even for a second. In fact it was kind of nice to spend some quality time alone. Okay, so it was just a little unsettling to find himself in conversation with the passenger seat every other minute. And he did waste a fair bit of time waiting for replies that never actually came. 

But he didn't miss Blair. 

Even when he'd zoned on the little black ant that he'd found on the dash. 

Or that stuff in the trash can. 

Nope, not even then did he think to miss Blair. 

Or Blair's voice. 

Or Blair's hands. 

Or those _very_ blue...Damn! Ah well, truth to be told, spending all that time in the truck on his own had been quite educational. 

Because it was then that - among other things - he had thought of The Plan. 

* * *

"What're you doing there, Chief?" he asked, much later that night, scrutinizing the books sprawled all over the table. He made a real effort to project a little interest. After all, Blair was always complaining that Jim didn't recognize the importance of his work, and anything, _anything_ would be better than falling prey to the twin demons of complete and utter boredom. A thought suddenly occurred to him and he brightened considerably. "Maybe I can help." And with that end in sight he reached in over Blair's shoulder. 

Blair swatted at his hand with an irritated frown. He was clearly engrossed. "I've gotta mark all this stuff tonight, Jim," he said without looking up. Blair looked kind of tired and a little put out. Hell, even his glasses looked a little out of sorts, teetering precariously as they were on the bridge of his nose. 

Jim's eyes took on an unholy gleam. 

Just one swipe. Just one little swipe. Now, _that_ would be... 

"Don't even think about it, Jim." 

Damn, and now he was psychic. 

Crestfallen, he retreated to the couch. He picked up the remote and flipped through the channels for a long boring minute. 

And then, in the midst of repeating the task, he remembered The Plan. 

Oh, _yeah._ The Plan.. 

Taking several deep breaths he instructed his body to relax. And then he centered his thoughts, just the way Blair had taught him. He focused his mind on the assignment before him, and extended his senses, concentrating on sight. 

Blair didn't even notice, and, encouraged by this, he zoomed in very carefully on Blair's index finger. He followed its path as it ran down the margin of the opening page. Blair had chipped a fingernail sometime during the day, and the crack was impressive. In fact it extended nearly all the way back to the cuticle. Hell, that looked pretty deep. He knew that if he zoomed in just a little more closely, that crack would miraculously transform itself into a huge gaping fissure, and that if he cared to look deeper than that... 

Yeucch. 

Maybe he'd save the closer inspection for another time. 

Blair was frowning. And his lips were pursed together. His brow was deeply creased with concentration. Every now and then he'd stop to scrawl a line or a circle or a squiggle through or around a word or a phrase that was not to his liking. 

There seemed to be a lot of them. 

At last Blair reached the summary on the final page. He sighed and leaned back, linking his arms behind his head and rolling his shoulders as he tried to work out the kinks in his spine. 

"Page two," said Jim softly. 

"Huh?" Blair looked across at him distractedly. 

"Third paragraph down," continued the Sentinel, hiding his smirk. "You missed one there, buddy." 

"Missed one what?" Blair's head jerked up. "Are you _reading_ this essay?" He looked slightly annoyed, and a little non-plussed, but despite himself he turned back the page to locate the paragraph Jim had mentioned. "Missed what, Jim?" He took off his glasses and rubbed frustratedly at his eyes. "Jim?" 

But Jim remained silent. 

Blair scoured the page again. Once. Then twice. On the third pass he turned around to face his partner. This time he sounded just a little defensive. 

_I_ can't see anything, man." 

_Of course not,_ Jim thought, smugly, _the last time I looked there was only one Sentinel in this room.._

Jim sighed. "I don't want to interfere with your work here, Chief. And if I tell you, I will be. Isn't that 'exerting an outside influence', or something? I don't want to cause you any trouble. I mean, someone might realize that it wasn't _you_ that located the error, and.." 

"Jim.." Blair began. But at that moment he found it. Spelling error. All that over a simple spelling... He made the correction and tossed the paper on top of the pile on the floor at his feet. "Thanks, man." he said, sounding, for him, just a little sarcastic. "Somehow I don't think missing a little spelling mistake is gonna ruin my career." He reached out for the next and ran his eyes along the opening sentence. "This one looks better," he said to himself. At least this guy knows what he's doing, and he knows how to..." 

"Page seven." 

"Page....? Jim, what the hell are you doing?" 

Jim looked wounded. "Sandburg, I'm only trying to help. There's another error on page seven. It's pretty major, too. I'm surprised you missed that one, Chief." 

"You're ..." 

Blair snatched up the paper in question and pinpointed the page. He wasn't going to ask. He was definitely not going to ask.. 

He had to ask. 

"Okay, Jim. So help me out. What is it, this time? A punctuation mark? A letter that should be in lower case? _What?"_ He fixed his roommate with a mutinous glare. 

"Now, Chief," said Jim. He adopted his most patient expression. "I wouldn't want to .." 

"..exert an undue outside influence. Yeah. I know." Blair gritted his teeth and went back to his search, growing more and more frustrated as the minutes slid by. 

Finally, he found it. An inaccurate paraphrase. But how could Jim have possibly known that it _was_ incorrect unless he.. _unless.._

"Jim?" 

"Mm?" Jim now seemed to be completely engrossed in a film, although how he possibly could be when it had been repeated every single night this week was utterly beyond him. 

"I know that the paraphrasing is inaccurate but how did you know about the Yucatan discoveries in the first place?" He felt a small thrill of excitement. Was it possible that Jim had finally decided to apply himself to some Sentinel research of his own? Drumming his fingers on the table he waited impatiently for his partner's reply. 

But none was forthcoming. 

"Jim!" 

Jim reluctantly turned his head in Blair's direction.. "Sandburg, I'm busy. Can' t you see that? I'm trying to watch the movie." 

The movie. Of course, the damned movie. As if there was anything more important than Bruce _frigging_ Willis.. He made a note to find the exact wording for the paraphrase in question, started a new pile to the right of the other and moved on to the next paper without further comment. Not that he didn't want to comment. Of course he wanted to comment. If he was right this was a significant development where Jim was concerned. But Jim was playing Ellison The Inscrutable to the hilt, and he knew there would be no joy. Not from Jim. Not right now. 

And very probably never, if he pushed it any further. 

Besides, Blair could do patient.. Hell, he'd majored in patient. So he'd wait until the iron was hot and then he would strike. 

He focused blearily on the new essay. At least this one looked competent. This would be the last one he'd go through this evening. It was getting awfully late, and he would need to get at least a few hours sleep if he was going to be able to function at all in the morning. Thankfully, Jim now seemed completely intent on the damned Bruce Willis movie. He looked completely relaxed. In fact, in repose Jim looked _better_ than... _Gah!_ Blair planted both elbows on the edge of the table with an audible thump and continued to read. 

The next hour passed slowly. The loft was virtually silent. Apart from the sound of his pen on the paper and the occasional muted 'Yeah!' from Jim enthusing on the couch, the whole world seemed at peace. 

And that peace was seductive. 

Despite his fatigue, Blair found that he was actually beginning to enjoy himself. This essay was good, man. He scribbled a couple of positive comments in the margin. This kid - what was his name? Oh, right. Darren Hollings. Well young Darren Hollings had a real propensity for.. Finishing up, he dropped it, too, onto the rapidly growing pile. 

"Five." 

"Wha..?" 

"Sorry, Chief, forgot to tell you. On that one? Page five." 

_"Jim..._ No! He was going to ignore him, was determined to ignore him, but his complete and utter horror his traitorous hand sneaked out and retrieved the damned thing anyway. 

Jim took his time smiling. It was a long, lazy smile. He opened his mouth to say something further but Blair cut him off before he had the chance to speak. 

_"What,_ Jim? What _now?_ Because if it's.. So help me, I'll.. _Dammit,_ Ellison, don't just sit there and _smile!"_

The expression in question obediently vanished from the Sentinel's face. Now his demeanor was different. Now Jim just looked sad. Deeply, immeasurably, infinitely sad. "You know I can't do that, Blair. I mean, what if.." He emitted a long, slow sigh of regret. 

"Yeah, yeah," Blair muttered uncharitably under his breath. He turned to page five, and subjected the text to a powerful scrutiny. 

And then he did it again. 

Twenty seven minutes later, when he had discovered precisely nothing, he felt a telltale little itch between his shoulder blades and looked up to find himself the object of Jim's sympathetic regard. 

"You're too trusting, Sandburg." 

_Too...Oh my god._

"That's it, man. I've had it!" Blair threw down the paper, leapt up from his chair and stormed across the room. He planted himself right in front of the unrepentant Sentinel, effectively blocking his view of the beloved Bruce Willis. "I'll tell you what I need, Jim. I need you to be _quiet._ _I_ need you to let me work in _peace.._ And, not to put it too bluntly, I _want_ you to.." 

"Fine," Jim said mildly. He hit the 'off' button on the remote, pushed back his sleeve and consulted his watch. "Time's up anyway." 

"Time's.." For the space of a moment Blair's face was a veritable quagmire of ire and confusion. Then his eyes narrowed, slightly. _"What_ time? What time are you talking about here, Jim?" 

"My three hours, of course." Jim smiled very sweetly and tapped at his watch. "This is about equal time, Sandburg. Your three hours this morning.." And then his features _transformed,_ reconstructing themselves. Until finally they settled into what could only be described as sheer jubilation. "..and my three hours tonight." 

Jim yawned widely and rose. "Think we're just about even." 

"Huh?" Blair mumbled inanely. 

"Yep, even," said Jim. "And it's way past my bedtime, so if you don't mind.." He reached out with one hand.. "I think I'll catch a little shuteye." Then, patting Blair's stubbled cheek, he traced the curve of Blair's jaw with the tip of one finger. 

And then he was moving. 

And then he was gone. 

Blair just couldn't believe it. _I just don't believe it!_ He took two halting steps towards Jim. He could still feel the warmth of Jim's finger caressing his jaw, and it flooded his being. 

_I can't believe that he did that! And, as for the other? Well, who would have known it. Jim Ellison; joker. Employing his senses to freak out his roommate. Well, whaddaya know, there is hope after all._ He made a grab for the nearest throw pillow, which, up until now had graced the arm of the couch. _Oh, geez, that's so.. cu..Ack!!_

Blair scrabbled for calm, and found a semblance of calm, so calm was what he gave forth, though he was inwardly babbling. Because there was one thing he needed explained. Because.. well.. _because..._ Must be professional here. 

So, calmly, then. 

"Jim?" 

Jim paused in mid-step. "Yeah, what is it, Sandburg?" 

"That, ah, paraphrase, man." 

Jim came to a halt at the foot of the stairs and he threw Blair a smile. 

Blair didn't trust this one either. 

"What?" Jim said, still smiling. 

Blair hugged the pillow to him tightly. "The _paraphrase,_ man. You know, the Yucatan discoveries?" 

"Oh, that." Jim said, airily, and dismissed the whole thing with a wave of his fingers. "It was on the Discovery Channel." 

"Huh?" _The... you bastard!_

"Yeah. Weird. Thought I was watching that game in Madrid, but I was on the wrong channel. It was interesting though. You should try it some time, Chief. Y'know, broaden your horizons. Never can tell, you might learn something new." 

Blair found himself speechless. And he decided to remain so. He wasn't dignifying _that_ with _any_ kind of response. 

Jim lifted a hand to the stair rail. "But I have to admit you were dead right, this morning. I do have to do it," he sighed. "I mean, exercise these senses." Then he straightened up slowly and tilted his head. "You were wrong on one count, though," he said, very softly. 

Blair took a step forward.. "Oh? And what might that be?" 

Jim shifted uncomfortably. "Ah, yeah, well.. today.. " 

Silence reigned for a heartbeat. 

"Today?" Blair encouraged. 

"Well, today was okay, but it wasn't much.. fun." Jim averted his gaze and stared down at his feet. "Aw, hell, Chief," he faltered. "It's just so much _more..._ 'fun'... when _you're_ there.. when _we_ do... when you're _with_ me, _Goddamnit!"_

Then to his partner's amazement Jim Ellison blushed to the tips of his ears. 

And then he looked up at Blair.. 

And _this_ time when Jim smiled, something stirred in his eyes. Something warm and, well, verging on.. _intimate,_ really.. 

And though he neatly evaded the incoming missile. 

He never quite made it to the top of the stairs... 

* * *

End Eye For An Eye by Lace: wobbinhood@ihug.com.au

Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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